Tiger Nuts with Drugs
by TheWritingMustache
Summary: So, a Legionnaire, a Ranger, and a Fiend walk into a bar...and say "ow". Three normal, everyday NPCs get their chance to shine in their own story of utter insanity and stupidity. Oh the thrills we will have. HIATUS
1. Ch 1: Welcome

Hello there Fallout fanfic! Let's cut right to the chase, because FanFic said I wasn't logged in when I tried to save all the edits I made, and I don't wanna repeat myself. Not like I remember what I said last time anyway. So enjoy.

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><p><strong>Tiger Nuts with Drugs<strong>

_Welcome to the Mojave_

_**[Tiger's POV]**_

Gee, it sure was boring around here. Nothing to do but kill fire-spitting geckos and drugged out Fiends, oh what joy that was. The only safe way to kill geckos were shooting them from afar, as to avoid getting burned- literally. And Fiend….Well, Fiends were Fiends, enough said. It was best to avoid the ones with guns, even if they were terrible shots. But sometimes they did hit their mark, and holy shit, lasers hurt like fuck! And the burns took forever to fade away. Twas the lesson that Tigris learned the day before as he took potshots at some Fiends, trying to learn how to properly use a shotgun. Using guns was against the rules, but some Legionaries knew how to use them, like assassins and Veterans. The rules were followed pretty loosely, so Tigris was sure he wouldn't get in too much trouble using a shotgun, should his Decanus catch him. Which wasn't very likely, seeing as his Decanus sent him out here in the first place.

Apparently, playing around on the rocks was "immature" and didn't look good to others. So what? The Kahns played around their own canyon all the time, so why it was bad that he did it too was beyond him. The Great Kahns, as drugged out and _dissolute_ as they were, looked like they had such a cool place to explore and live in. Sure, Red Rock Canyon was the last place anyone wanted to live, but Kahns made it work. Plus, wouldn't be important to show them that even the Legion could have fun? All the better to sway them over. Tigris had seen firsthand what the Kahns did as an initiation ritual. Beat the guy down for a full minute, and if the guy doesn't pass out, he wins. That kid with the black flippy hair tried it and failed, _again_. Apparently, he had tried to get in a few times before, but miserably failed. Well, that's what he gets for being a _profligate_. Soon, that boy would be Legion property, and finding his place in the Mojave would no longer be a problem.

But goddamn, there was nothing to do out here. Keeping tabs on southern Vegas could be so boring, especially when the Fiends were off doing…whatever Fiends did. Most likely getting high and bothering the NCR. That was the only thing that bothered him while being out there. Camp McCarran was right outside Fiend territory, and troopers were constantly patrolling the area. If only they didn't travel in packs, then he could possibly get a kill in. Oh how proud his Decanus would be if he brought in some dog tags, and maybe a head or two. Then maybe he'd be advanced to Prime Legionarie! Ooh, that would be just wonderful! The Centurion back at Cottonwood Cove was accepting dog tags, so if anyone could authorize advancement, it would be him.

Until then, Tigris could just patrol around the area, keeping an eye on any Kahns that came to and from their canyon. And watch out for Fiends, and NCR, and other raiders, etc. All profligates waiting to have a true purpose in their life, to one day fight for the glory of Caesar. At least, that is what the priestesses told him as a child. It was true, right? That's why the Legion took over his tribe when he was a baby, correct? It had to be, no one had told him otherwise. Thought, if he ever had the chance, Tigris would totally ask a more educated profligate should the chance arrive.

Off in the distance, the sounds of gunfire echoed off the ruins of Southern Vegas. The Legionnaire paused in his patrol, contemplating whether or not he should go and investigate. Could be raiders, could be Fiends. Could be some troopers taking shots at the local wildlife. Well, if he went to go look, he'd risk getting caught in the crossfire. On the other hand, he wouldn't be bored…and there would be a very small chance the bodies would have some nice loot on them, if their attackers didn't take everything first.

Tigris glanced around, almost expecting his Decanus to show up and drag him back to Cottonwood. It was all clear as far as he could tell. Mars, he was some sort of crazy or something. Without another thought, Tigris took off down the road, running as hard and fast as his striped legs could carry. Hopefully, there wouldn't be mines hidden around. Death or loss of his legs wasn't an option. Either way, his Decanus would find a way to fucking kill him.

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><p><em><strong>[Nut's POV]<strong>_

"Good afternoon, recruits. You may think that your training is over after Camp Golf. But I'm here to tell you sorry sons of bitches that it's not. Exciting, isn't it?" was the greeting he gave his squad after he had joined them out in the parking lot. "It's a sad, sad day when a trooper gets deployed out here. McCarran is the second to last place you wanna be at, Forlorn Hope being first" he continued on, pacing back and forth in front of them. "Don't think things are gonna be easy here. And don't make any plans on going to the Strip either. To get there, you gotta get through me" the Ranger finished, coming to a full stop.

"I am Captain Maximus, and you shall only address me as that. For the next couple months, I will put you through the most intense training of your life. At Golf, the worst thing you had to fight was Lakelurks and the occasional stupid Legion boy. Here, we have Fiends. After a tangle with them, you'll wish you were back by Lake Mead"

God, this was going to be fucking fun! Everyone out here was afraid of the Legion. But anybody unlucky enough to live near the Fiends were scared shitless. How he had gotten stuck with training newbies was beyond him. That's what happens when the Chief transfer you to McCarran to help bring down the Fiend population. But why the title of Captain? He loved being a Ranger because he was damn good at it. Sure, it was pretty cool getting away from the Ranger Stations and all, with the Strip right next door. The New Vegas sign was a kick ass sniper's nest, allowing him full range of the area around there. And he got a free look into the city itself. Man, he couldn't wait for leave to go get drunk at Gomorrah. All the pretty whores down there…..hot damn!

But first, he had to whip these losers into shape.

"Not every soldier who comes through here gets this sort of training. You guys came to me because you're good shots and have level heads. Hell, maybe one of you will become a ranger one day, just like me. Welcome to McCarran, and the most stressful time of your military career" he went on, bringing it all to a close. The squad before him showed a range of emotions, starting with excitement, followed by over-confidence, ending with anxiety. Oh yeah, they were so new. "So, any questions before we start things off?"

A single hand went up, coming from the young man with the reddish brown hair. "State your name and your question, soldier" he commanded, leaving the floor open to him.

"Private Hexley, sir! Um, I was uh…wondering….how did you get your ranger name?" Hexley asked with a grin, trying to play off his verbal stumble. But it got a laugh from his instructor, who's was ready to split in half behind the mask.

"Oh, so you wanna know how that got started, didja?" he said, ready to laugh some more as all the recruits nodded eagerly. "Come on, I'll show you" the Ranger said, pulling out his rather impressive anti-material rifle. The recruits followed him, bringing out their own, standard services. Time to go Fiend hunting! Just like that silver haired guy walking in apparently had done, for two Fiend heads dangled from his hands. He nodded at the brave, silvery soul, pleased that whoever this was, they would make a fine example of what a trooper really should be.

"Wish I had a 1st Recon guy looking after me..." one of his recruits mumbled. Glancing back, the Fiend hunter had a such a guy following him. Huh, that was odd. That guy wasn't in 1st Recon, anymore anyway. He had to be a former, otherwise he would be hanging out with the rest of Recon in their tent. Well, who needed 1st Recon? They should be happy to be trained by a goddamn ranger, goddammit!

"Enough gawking ladies, we got a busy day ahead of us. You can talk about Recon when you're in showers wanking one off. Now move it!" he yelled at them, causing them all to jump and hurry along. Yeah that's right, keep those asses moving. He led the squad out towards Fiend territory, leading them along the sides of destroyed buildings and rubble. It didn't take long to find a lone Fiend pacing around

They lined up behind some piles of debris, their rifles pointed in all directions should anybody sneak up on them. Only his own rifle was trained on the Fiend, his eye at the scope, ready to blow the drugee, sexual innuendo not intended. "Keep your eyes on the prize, boys" he informed the recruits, his target in his sights. He breathed in, exhaled, and fired. A few short moments later, the Fiend screamed in agony, clutching his now bloodied (and lead filled) crotch.

"WHY? OH GOD, WHY?" the Fiend screamed, rolling to the ground, his cries piercing through the air. Grinning behind his mask, he rose, taking note of the horrified expressions on his recruits. Several of them were rubbing their own crotches, spiritually feeling the Fiend's pain. He laughed at them, shaking his head in amusement before leading the way back to base.

"And that, gentlemen, is why they called me Ranger Nutters. I never miss. Let's go!" the Ranger called, not even bothering to finish the job.

"Yes, Captain Nutters" they mumbled, trailing after him. Yeah, that's the name he liked to work with.

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><p><em><strong>[Drug's POV]<strong>_

Hey, it was getting dark. Oh man, he loooooved dark. That meant the sun was gonna go away, and it would be a little bit cooler, and he could see the lights from the Strip. Man, he loved seeing the Strip at night. One day, he was gonna be there, and he was gonna look at the lights firsthand. And plow some girls, and get super drunk, and go gambling and….yeah, good stuff. All the good stuff people did when they went to Vegas. It soooo sucked ass that he lived this close to Vegas, but he couldn't go there. Motor-Runner told them not to, because the NCR would kill them. That's why they took over Vault 3, cause they needed a safe place to live. But he also said that the Legion would probably kill the NCR, but maybe they wouldn't. Not like it really mattered, politics weren't his thing. Supplying his peeps were. And here came a peep now.

"Yo, Jet-Tats, I need a jump man. Help a brother out?" his peep asked, rubbing his hands in anxiety. Smiling, Jet-Tats tossed a canister of Mentats at him. "Thanks man, you're a lifesaver!" came the reply. He shrugged. All in a day's work, really.

"No prob, dude. Hey, tell Cook-Cook I gotta use the fire later, my stock's running low" Jet-Tats told the other Fiend, who nodded and walked back over to the rest of the group. He would cook up a new batch after dinner. Cook-Cook didn't like anybody using the fire when he was trying to do his thing. Whatever, that just meant he'd have more time to look at the lights. Cause he liked the lights. Gathering up his current stock, Jet-Tats climbed out of camp to go and lie down more in the open.

Once his outside was all comfortable against the Mojave earth, he made his inside comfortable as well. First, it was a good, healthy inhalation of Jet, followed by a few drops of Mentats. And ohhhh yeahhhhhh thaaaat waaaas the goooooood stuuuuufffffff. Everything felt amazing, it looked amazing, and…and…..yeah. He let out a sigh of content, his insides all jiggly and wiggly and all meltyish. And whoa, the Strip lights looked so funky and weird. They swirled around and made shapes and danced along the sky. But some of them looked like normal lights, losing the awe that they held. Wait, he could fix that. Jet-Tats took a gloved hand, and placed it over his bad eye. With that eye covered, the swirling dancing of lights returned. Muuuuuuuch better. So much better, he giggled to himself. And kept giggling. And then kept giggling some more. And some more. And some more.

Giggling was tiring, and made it his sides hurt sometimes. Hurt so much, he had to hold his sides to make sure his guts didn't fall out. He hated it when his guts fell it, it was gross and had weird lumpy thingamjajigs. So as he lied there holding in his guts, he heard something weird above the noise of his own laughs. It was coming from the others guys. What were they doing? Looking over at his peeps, two different scenes played out before his eyes.

In one eye, he his friends shooting lasers and throwing red stuff into the air. One guy even threw his own arm! Wow, that guy was amazing! And Cook-Cook was doing something. Oh, he was cooking something with his big incinerator thing. Yeah, Cook-Cook was awesome. He did a chick from 1st Recon one time. That's how cool he was. Cook-Cook could do anything, literally. And his Brahmin was cool. Queenie was so cute, and she's really nice. Where was Queenie? Jet-Tats liked it when she mooed. Moo! However, in the other eye, things were going to hell. Lasers and bullets were being exchanged; he could hear the guns from where he was. Blood splattered the ground, and dead bodies were strewn across the earth. Cook-Cook was nowhere to be seen.

He….he didn't know what to do, but look away. He…he needed more Jet…and Mentats. So he took some more, trying to rid his mind of those horrible images. When he opened his eyes again, swirls of colors and lights flooded them, and he wasn't sure what was real, or what wasn't. Fine by him, everything looked better this way. The crunch of sand sounded by his ear, and two shadows loomed over him. His bad eye saw two people, one with a head full of silvery hair, the other had a red beret on. His good eye saw two strange blacky things, one with a silver head, the other a red one. Goddammit, why couldn't the bad eye play nice with his good eye?

"_One more left. Put him out of his misery?"_ Redhead asked silverhead while pulling out a dark, brown rifle. Silverhead shook his head, pushing Redhead away.

"_Nah, let him live. He'll die of overdose anyway"_ Silverhead concluded, and pulled his friend away. Jet-Tats watched them go, failing to realize what the small, spikey round thing was in silverhead's hand. They left, disappearing past rubble and into the South Vegas ruins. Yet, he remained, unmoving and unblinking. After what seemed like a long while, a thought finally struck him.

"Ah, fuck. They came before dinner! Now what am I gonna eat?"

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><p>And end chapter 1. Fav this, review it, or just click the back button. Do what you want, I can't influence you. I don't think my Speech skill will work on you guys. Chapter 2 shall be up in the next week or so? Just depends on what I decide to do with myself. Today, I took a trip to Zion, and tomorrow I'm heading up the Sierra Madre for a gala event. And...my sister got Ocarina of Time 3DS so...there's always that. Until Next Time~<p>

Vale.


	2. Ch 2: Unexpected Meeting

Hello FanFic! Here is the result of staying up until 1:30 in the morning finishing this chapter. Even though I started it a few weeks ago, right after I got the first chapter done...shut up! Here it is and enjoy!

Disclaimer: Fallout: New Vegas belongs to Obsidian and Bethesda. But Tiger, Nuts, and Drugs belong to me!

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><p><strong>Tiger Nuts with Drugs<strong>

_Unexpected Meeting_

_**[Tiger's POV]**_

Raiders were awesome! They usually had the coolest shit on them, including weapons, chems, and food. From the crazed raiders that had turned on each other for drugs, he got a shotgun to fix his old one with, a pool cue, and a nice combat knife. Yet, Tigris felt that the Sugar Bombs were the best loot he had ever gotten off of dead guys so far. Out all the pre-War foods, the sugary cereal was his favorite, because they were so damn good. The Legionaire made his way back to his patrol area, shoving handfuls of cereal into his mouth.

Sugar bombs were so good, as were Fancy Lad Snack cakes and Dandy Boy Apples. Yeah, those were the best. But sadly, pre-War anything was frowned upon in the Legion. Legionaires were taught to live off the land and not rely on the goods of the old world. This made sense, since pre-War food could eventually run out, and it did carry radiation. But the radiation gave it its flavor, that old world flavor that natural foods didn't have. At least, that's what Tigris thought. Gosh, he felt like skipping or something all the way back to his post. Why? Because he was in such a damn good mood! But what if his Decanus saw him? Skipping's not very manly, after all.

The Legionaire eventually did reach his post, which was just a corner of what was once a two story building. A dead campfire lied next to a makeshift ramp, which he climbed up to sit upon a blue bedroll, tossing his loot aside. Sure, it wasn't the best place to live, not very sheltered, and anything could come up and kill him in the middle of the night. But his Decanus told him to take post here, and only here. He wasn't allowed to set up post anywhere else. Sometimes he wondered if his Decanus told him these things just to screw with him, or just because he wanted to turn Tigris into a fine Legionaire. It was probably the former, but Tigris really did hope it was the latter instead.

Tigris reached into the cereal box for another scoop, only to find that all the Sugar Bombs had been depleted. He cursed, tossing the box to the ground and wrapping his mask back around his face. Yawning, the Legionaire rolled onto his back, only to hear a _plink_ sound. He froze, and then slowly turned to face the wall. Glancing up, he could see a small, dark hole in the cement, illuminated by the lights of the Strip. His breath caught in his throat, and he contemplated on what to do. There was only one logical thing to do at this time; grab his shit and run like fucking hell!

Tigris shot his arm out to grab his shotgun, pulling it back just in time to hear another _plink_ echo off the cement. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! The Legionaire rolled off his bedroll and onto the ground, quickly picking himself up and taking off in a panicked run. Oh Mars, this hidden sniper wasn't giving up! Dirt was kicked up behind him, and he wasn't sure if they would stop. There was only one way to lose him, _go deep into Fiend Territory._

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><p><em><strong>[Nut's POV]<strong>_

This was best fucking night of sniper duty Nutters has ever had! When he first climbed up to one of the McCarran watchtowers after getting the recruits situated in camp, he was just glad to finally get some alone time. A nice, quiet night taking out anything that moved was all he needed; just some peace on his part. And there he was, just looking through his scope, not really hoping to see anything interesting when HOLY CRAP WAS THAT LEGION RED? Shit, Legion, out here? This far from the Colorado? Yes, yes it was! Hot damn!

He took a shot at the kid, laughing to himself as he saw the kid start freaking out about it. He took another shot, and another, missing each time, just to give that poor sucker a boost. Sure, Nutters could have shot that bastard's head right off, but toying with him was much more fun! Only when the fucker disappeared deeper into Fiend territory did the ranger start to panic. No! He couldn't lose this one! Choice time, leave his post and go hunt down a slaver among drugees, or stay here and let him get away? Fuck this post, Nutters was going after that damn Legion bitch!

The Ranger climbed down from the nest and raced across the airfield, heading straight for the back door that only a few select officers knew about.* Once out of McCarran, Nutters headed straight for South Vegas, carefully avoiding anything that looked round and a small light to it. He swore to God that those fucking land mines were going to be the death of somebody who wasn't a Fiend someday. Now, to find that Legionaire. Holstering his rifle, the Ranger switched to a light pistol, sneaking around the ruins in the sneakiest way a ranger could possibly be.

He wasn't too concerned about encountering any Fiends, the live ones were probably holed up in their little hideaways. The Courier came in earlier that night with the head of Cook-Cook, rapist, and one of the Fiend leaders. With three bosses down, McCarran practically through a party for the kid, calling him a hero and some shit like that. So everyone around the ruins who didn't get killed today was probably all in hiding. All except one.

Nutters snapped his attention to the right, holding his pistol out in front of him. No, it couldn't be a Fiend, they weren't this sneaky. So that meant it had to be his bitch! But where could he be hiding? Not over here, not over there…so where…..The Ranger's unasked questions were answered when a shadow fell over him, and something crashed onto his back. Fuck yes, let the games begin!

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><p><em><strong>[Drug's POV]<strong>_

_-Some time later-_

"Okay…lemme see if I got this straight. You saw him from McCarran, and started shooting at him. Then he ran away, and you went after him," Jet-Tats began, turning to the Legionaire for the next part. "And you thought it would be a good idea to jump him from behind. And then somehow in that whole crazy mess, you poor fuckers ended up _way_ over here, by me. That's what happened?" the Fiend finished, glancing between the two.

"Uh….yup"

"That's pretty much it"

"There was a lot of kicking, punching,"

"Name calling"

"Maybe some scratching…."

"I think I might have gotten you in the groin once"

"I think you did too. Couldn't really feel it under all this armor"

"Alright, I get it!" Jet-Tats loudly interrupted. "But you guys do realize you had guns, right? That you could have just shot each other and be done with it?"

"What's the fun in that?" the Ranger asked him, throwing his hand up in emphasis.

"Oh, good point. So tell me then, what are you doing out here, Legion?" Jet-Tats inquired, turning back to the Legionaire.

"I was posted out here, why else? It's my job to keep an eye out on McCarran and you chem users" the Legion boy said proudly, puffing out his chest. Cause you know, playing spy was like the best job in the whole damn army. But Jet-Tats nodded anyway, like it made perfect sense.

"Alright, alright. What about you, NCR?"

"Stationed at the base, dumbass. I'm only here to take that stupid bitch back there" the Ranger growled, jabbing a finger in Legion's direction. That in turn, received a very angry waving of the fist.

"The fuck you will! I'm not going anywhere with you, NCR dog!"

"Legion scum!"

"Dissolute!"

"Skirt wearing she-man!"

"Ladies, calm down! Don't get your panties in a twist" Jet-Tats interrupted again, picking up empty Jet canisters and tossing them at the fighting men. He couldn't see them, but he was pretty sure the looks he was getting were killer. The Fiend grinned, pulling out a full canister of Jet and inhaling it. "You guys seriously need to relax" he told them, digging around his pockets for a pill of Mentats.

"You know, we should just kill you. Just for being a Fiend"

"Chems aren't allowed in the Legion as well. You're just digging your own grave with such dependency"

"Whatever, my body, my rules" the Fiend declared, finding a pill and popping it into his mouth. It was going to take a little bit more than that to get him high, but he needed a little something if he was going to listen to the old grannies here bitch about everything.

"So, since we've become such awesome friends in the last half-hour we've known each other, I think an introductory is in order. My homies call me Jet-Tats, cause I like Jet, and I like Mentats. And I like taking them at the same time. And you guys are….?"

"…Tigris…"

"Ti-what?"

"Tigris…..Tiger"

Tiger huh? Staring at him, Jet-Tats covered his good eye, allowing his bad one to see properly. He was silent for few moments, quietly observing the tiger before him. The Fiend nodded before looking over to the Ranger. Said Ranger sighed before answering.

"Maximus. Or as I've been called all day, Nutters"

"Nutters? How didja get that?"

"Go stand way over there and I'll show ya"

"Eh…pass. Hey, you guys wanna watch the lights with me before sunrise? Cause, I _love_ the lights from the Strip" Jet-Tats offered, smiling. "Cause really, you shitheads have nowhere to go at this time of night. You're either gonna get lost in the dark, or step on a landmine and blow up. And that's no fun. So kick back, relax, and make yourselves at home. Welcome to Casa del Jet-Tats"

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><p><strong>*<strong>There is no secret back door, I just made it up for the sake of the fic! But I do wish there was such a door 030

And there it is, they've all come together. There was action, there was a lot of dialogue, but they're together, and that's all that matters. Yes, there were some confusing parts, but I'm damn tired and shouldn't be up writing this shit. Review, favorite, ignore it, you all know the drill. Thanks to those who have been adding this story to their favorites list, much love to you. I'll try and get out another chapter much sooner. Course, HP7 part 2 just came out, so I'm gonna want to watch that. And I'm gonna be needing to make some money soon. OLD WORLD BLUES COMES OUT IN THREE DAYS NOW OH MAH GAWD 8D

Stay Classy~


	3. Ch 3: Love Thy Neighbor

At long last...an update...chapter 3...it's been too long, far too long. My apologies for making you all wait. And just think, I was going to write a X-mas special too. Well, we'll see what the future holds. Until then, here you are. Merry Christmas, Fallout Fanfiction.

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><p><span>Tiger Nuts with Drugs<span>

_Love Thy Neighbor_

**[Tiger's POV]**

"I was abducted by aliens before"

Tigris let out a groan as Jet-Tats said that, slapping his hands over his masked face. He wasn't sure how they had been sitting there listening to the Fiend, but he had just about had enough of all the wild things he was telling them.

"I really doubt it. There's no such thing as aliens. You were probably tripping more than balls at the time of your little 'abduction'" Nutters said from his spot on the ground.

"Noooo, I'm serious, I really was! How would you know? You weren't there!" Jet-Tats cried, sitting up to stare down at them. "How do you think I got this eye?" he continued, motioning to the empty, gray eye on the right side of his face. A swirly tribal tattoo surrounded it, making it at least look a little cooler than just a lame eye.

"I dunno, you stabbed yourself with it?" Nutters suggested.

"No, all the chems couldn't fit in his head, so they had to take up space there" Tigris said.

"Noooooo, you guys are wroooong! They took my eye out, and they did something weird with it. That's why it's not normal" the Fiend corrected, his normal, green eye widening in horror. "It's a camera, I'm sure it is. They're using me to see what's left of civilization. They'll come in the middle of the night while you're asleep you guys!"

"Ah, but you see, there's one thing wrong with that statement, crazy head" Nutters piped up. Jet-Tats tilted his head at the Ranger. "I don't sleep. I lie in my bed, and I wait for morning to come" he continued. The Fiend said nothing, merely sending Tigris a sad look.

"What about you, Tiger?"

"….I'll send you a S.O.S via space probe" Tigris retorted, giving them both glares behind his goggles. His answer, however, only made the degenerate's jaw drop.

"You will? Oh my gosh, that would be so cool! Then I can prove to Nutters there really are aliens! Thanks Tigris!" the Fiend cried, giving him a toothy grin. He was…ridiculous. Why did Tigris even bother? There was no reasoning with a degenerate, especially one who consumed three canisters of Jet and Mentats _at the same time_. All the stupid stories he had tried to tell them were just plain…stupid and unreal. This was why drugs were not allowed in the Legion. They turned people into…this. Corrupt, insane, stupid, retarded, idiotic…other adjectives he did not know that would describe the Fiend known only as Jet-Tats. A sigh pulled the Legionaire out of his thoughts, and he watched as the Ranger climbed to his feet, stretched, and pulled out his pistol. Tigris paled at the sight.

"Well, I'm pretty sure we could sit here all night and talk about this, but, I need to get back to base before I'm missed. So Jet-Tats, lovely chat, but I'm gonna shoot you and take Tigger over here back with me. Nice knowing ya" Nutter said, clicking the safety off his gun and taking aim at the Fiend's face. Tigris suddenly took all of that back. _'You shoot him and I'll kill myself'_ he thought, hand slowly edging for his belt, his new combat knife only a mere inches away.

"Noooooo, you can't kill me yet! I haven't even made you guys dinner yet!" Jet-Tats wailed, looking up at the Ranger with big, pleading eyes.

"Dinner? What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Ever had Fiend Stew before?"

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><p><strong>[Nut's POV]<strong>

Nutters…didn't know what to say, what to do, or how to act. He sat there with his helmet in his lap, staring dumbly into the fire as Jet-Tats cooked over it, pouring this and that into a pot. How….how did he do that? How did that stupid little Fiend manage to convince him not to shoot him, to get him and Legion to stick around long enough for a bite to eat? He scratched at his blonde hair, trying to figure it all out in his head. Maybe…maybe he had been sitting too close to the guy, and he got a wiff of some of those drugs.

Yeah that was it, his judgment was just impaired. He just needed to breath in some fresh air, stay as sober as he possibly could, all that jazz. Unfortunately, his whole plan went down the tubes as Jet-Tats poured a two whole bottles of beer into the pot, and then closed the lid. On the side of the fire, he could see Tiger's shocked expression.

"I'm not eating that" the Legionaire said, crossing his stripped arms over is chest.

"But you have to! It'll be the last meal I ever make you in my life! Pleaaaaase Tigris, you got to! It's common courtesy!" Jet-Tats whined, sounding like a child who wanted the last Fancy Lad in the box.

"God damn, you stupid dumbass, shut up! He's Legion, you know they don't do drugs and shit" Nutters scolded. He received a blank look in return from the drugee. "Idiot, you just poured two whole fucking bottles of beer into dinner!"

"Ohhhh. Well so what? You can't get drunk off of it. Alcohol doesn't have the same effect once you cook it. Hell, the cannibals on the Strip cook their people in wine all the damn time" Jet-Tats explained, giving them both looks like they were stupid or something. Silence fell over them, save for the crackling of the fire and far off, distant gunfire.

"…You mean….there really are cannibals there?" Tigris asked in a way that reminded Nutters of a kid finding out the The Tooth Fairy wasn't real, and it was your parents that left a cap underneath you pillow. But he couldn't blame him, Nutters was just as shocked.

"That's just a rumor. The White Glove Society in the Ultra-Luxe are on a strict no-people diet. Promise. Besides, while the masks they wear may be creepy, their bathrooms are to die for" the Ranger told them, thinking back to his last visit to the Strip. He slept in the Ultra-Luxe, then hightailed it over to Gommorah for some girly action. And the whole time he was at the former, the food did not look suspicious at all.

"Ha, and you believe that? You 'Civilized folks' will believe anything" Jet-Tats laughed at them "Oh yeah, some stupid profligate I am. Oh, and did you know that Mentats actually make you smarter? And whooooo's been eating them all night long? That's right, this guy right here. So before you Girl Scouts whine and complain anymore about what I'm feeding you, I will gladly find a cazador, kill it, and stuff its poison gland down your throat. Now shut up, and let's get our grub on!"

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><p><strong>[Nut's POV]<strong>

Jet-Tats couldn't help but feel sooooo damn smug as he watched the two men before him chow down, their chewing the only sort of talking that was going on at the moment. He had them, he totally had them. Even if the effects were temporary, he would, and forever, be smarter than Nutters and Tigris combined. Sure, he may act like a five year old, or say things that only a loon would say, but he knew what he was talking about, most of the time.

The alien bit may have been a bit overboard, but the Fiend had that gut feeling that he had been poked, prodded, and probed once in his life. Maybe not my creatures from another world, but something….something out in there in the wastes messed with his vision. Maybe it was the Enclave, they were known for doing crazy shit like that, right?

"Hey, One-Eyed Dumbass, what'd you put in this exactly?" Nutters's voice jolted him out of his thoughts, and he glanced down to his plate, staring at it for a bit before answering.

"Brahmin meat. Beer. Jalapeño pepper and potato. Why, do you don't like?" he asked, taking a bite of his cooking. It tasted fine to him.

"No, no it's…..great actually. I was just wondering what was in it" the Ranger confessed, slurping up more of it. Jet-Tats beamed with pride. Well, Cook-Cook wasn't the only good cook around! He supposed now that the Fiend leader was dead, everyone wouldn't be coming to him for just drugs anymore. He glanced over at Tigris to see how far he had gotten with his meal, only to find that the Legionaire had yet to remove his mask and actually begin eating!

"Tiiiiiigriiiiiiiiis! I told you you had to eaaaaaat iiiiiit! I told you, I told you, I toooooooooold youuuuu!" Jet-Tats howled, setting his plate down next to him. "And no hats at the dinner table, mister!"

"I told you, I'm not eating it. And you're wearing a hat" Tigris scoffed, setting his plate down as well to cross his arms over his chest. The Fiend growled under his breath and pulled his helmet off by the horns, shaking out his short black hair, feather earrings flying. He dropped his helmet, then pointed at the Legionarie.

"Off. Now"

Tigris didn't move for a few moments, and then his head slowly turned towards Nutters. The Ranger gave him a blank look and a shrug. Ha, he was caught! "Come oooon Tiiiigris, we're waiting"

The Legionaire's head snapped back to him and sighed, hands reaching up to undo the mask around his face. The bandana like material came off first, then the goggles, then the helmet as a whole. "Ooooooh, the name makes much much muuuuch more sense now!"

"Can it, degenerate" Tigris mumbled at him. It was a …strange sight to see. Tigris's whole face black stripes jutting out across his cheeks and up along his head, possibly disappearing into his short, brown hair. But his eyes, ooh, Jet-Tats loved his eyes. Big brown, with similar markings around them, fully reminding him of a tiger he had seen in a picture book once. Oh right, Tigris meant tiger in Latin. No wonder he had the perfect mental image when they met.

"Thanks for joining us, Tiger. Now eat my stew before I make you eat my foot!"

"Alright, alright! I'll eat some of your stupid food!" Tigris cried, snatching up his plate and tipping it up to his mouth, taking a great big slurp. Only to practically spit it back out, coughing and sputtering as he did. "You bastard, you said the alcohol lost its effect after being cooked!"

"Hey, not my fault you've never gotten drunk before. It's different for everyone!"

Nutters just laughed at them.

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><p>Review, fav, all that jazz. Thanks for being patient. Laters.<p> 


	4. update

Alright so this is not a chapter update, and there won't be at all.

I just wanna say that after a year of ignoring this, I want to blow off the dust, and reboot it. Yes, I'm going to start re-writing this. It'll have the same characters, just slightly different from what I had going with it.

My writing has grown a lot since I started this story, and hopefully I can do it a great justice with a re-write.

So thanks anyone who was following or reading this story.

I'm leaving this version up for now, and I shall just replace chapters later on.

That's it.

The first chapter will be re-written, and the 2nd and 3rd deleted when the newest work is completed.

Thank you again.


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